


(The Best Part of Me Was) Always You

by orphan_account



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Angst, Community: bigtimebang, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Lucy suddenly dumps James, Jett, trying to be a helpful friend, suggests a friendly bet. James has 3 months to take the geekiest person—of Jett's choosing—and turn them into someone worthy of being James Diamond's friend. It just so happens that the person Jett chooses ends up being Logan Mitchell, and what was supposed to be a friendly bet ends up being something that changes James' life more than he thought it could. Loosely based on the movie She’s All That.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(The Best Part of Me Was) Always You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [bigtimebang](http://bigtimebang.livejournal.com) over on Livejournal.

There’s a car sitting in the driveway that James doesn’t recognize. It doesn’t stop him from pulling up to the curb, parking his own car as he waits, skipping through the stations on the radio until he gives up and connects his iPod, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he grows more impatient with each second that passes.

Five minutes pass, then ten, and, tired of waiting, James gets out of the car and walks up the path, ringing the doorbell annoyingly.

The face that greets him is not Lucy’s.

“Yeah?” the guy says, more asleep than he is awake if the way his eyes keep closing are anything to go by.

“Who are you?” James asks, trying to push the door open.

“Uh, Kendall. You are?”

“James,” he replies. “Where’s Lucy?”

“Showering, I think,” Kendall says. “Had kind of a late night, if you know what I mean,” he adds, winking.

James’ stomach sinks to his feet, heart tightening in his chest.

“Kendall, who’s there?” Lucy’s voice trickles out the front door, the sound of her feet thumping down the stairs.

Kendall turns into the house, shouts back, “Some dude named James,” and James is just barely able to make out Lucy’s exclamation of _oh, shit_.

Her face appears in the doorway seconds later, and she’s pushing Kendall back into the house, whispering something to him that James can’t make out.

“Lucy, what’s going on?” James asks, unease bubbling in the pit of his stomach at the way Lucy closes the door behind her, like she doesn’t want Kendall to know what’s going on.

“I’m dumping you,” Lucy says, short and to the point. It makes James’ skin crawl how there doesn’t even seem to be the tiniest bit of remorse in her at what James had to witness, what Kendall told him. “It’s just—we were never really going anywhere, y’know? And I met Kendall at that concert this weekend that you didn’t want to go to, and he just moved here, and I feel like there’s so much more between me and him already than there ever was between us.”

“What?” James can’t believe what he’s hearing. He never had any inkling that things were less than awesome between the two of them. Yeah, they’re different, Lucy with her wild colored hair and her complete lack of care towards authority, James with his need to stay in line and away from trouble or risk losing his trust fund, but he thought despite all that, they had so much more in common, their dreams of fame and stardom, maybe one day making music together. To find that he was actually alone in all of that makes his heart feel like it’s been thrown in a blender.

“Bye, James,” Lucy says, voice high and cheerful like she didn’t just tear James’ world in half.

He stands there, numb and frozen as Lucy retreats back into the house, the door slamming shut on everything James thought he knew.

\--

James briefly debates skipping school, can’t find it anywhere in him to muster a smile or the strength it’ll take him to get through the day, but he still finds himself pulling into the parking lot of the high school, stomach rolling at the sight of Lucy and Kendall already there, holding hands as they amble up to the side entrance.

He drags himself out of the car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and pocketing his keys. Jett and Dak are already waiting for him, twin looks of uneasiness on their faces.

“What?” he says when he gets to them, harsher than he means for it to come out, but dammit, he’s not in the mood for this right now.

“Saw Lucy,” Dak says. “That’s harsh.”

“Whatever,” James says, shrugging his shoulders. Jett and Dak flank his sides as they walk into the school, and James freezes up. Lucy and Kendall are standing in the middle of the hall, seemingly every student surrounding them, fawning over Kendall and the tattoos he has on his upper arms.

“Dude looks like a douche,” Jett says, and James can’t help but laugh.

Despite Jett being one of James’ best friends, Jett is about as douchey as it can get. Looking at Kendall, though, James just might end up changing his opinion.

“So, this means party this weekend, right?” Jett asks, pulling James’ attention away from Lucy and Kendall.

James sighs. “No, dude.”

“Dude, come on,” Jett says. “It’s the perfect reason to have a party. What better way to take your mind off your heartbreak than having a party?”

James shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Jett will look for any reason possible to have a party. New clothes? Party. Getting a D on a paper and not failing? Party. Not getting caught skipping school? Party. No doubt he’ll find some reason by the time Friday rolls around to have a party, but James isn’t going to let Jett use his heartbreak as a reason to have a fricken party. There’s nothing James feels like celebrating.

“No, Jett,” he says, “no party.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect way to make you forget about what Lucy did to you.”

“Dude, he said no, let it go,” Dak says, elbowing Jett in the side to get the point across.

James opens his locker and gathers the material he’ll need for his class, hoping Jett will take the hint and just let it drop.

Obviously it just isn’t James’ day, because once lunch rolls around, Jett’s back at it again, throwing out every outlandish idea he can come up with, each one more ridiculous than the last.

“Seriously, dude,” James says, throwing his fork onto the lunch tray. “Can’t you just let me fucking wallow?”

“No, dude, absolutely not,” Jett replies. “That’s what bros are for: to get your ass drunk when your girlfriend dumps you.”

“I don’t want to get drunk, Jett,” James says for what feels like the hundredth time. “I don’t want to party, I don’t want to go to a concert, I don’t want to spray paint the side of the fucking school, I don’t want to do any of the shit you’ve come up with. Just let me get over this on my own.”

Dak nods his head in agreement, but otherwise stays silent, picking at the—barely passing as edible—food on his tray.

“How about a little gambling, then?” Jett suggests. “I know you always like having extra cash in your wallet.”

James heaves out a sigh, only just refraining from bashing his head into the lunch table. “No,” he says through gritted teeth, piling the food wrappers onto his tray. There are still ten minutes remaining of his lunch hour—he has no idea why he didn’t just go somewhere off campus instead of sitting here dealing with Jett and his ridiculousness—and he’d rather spend them in the library or hiding in a fricken bathroom than listening to whatever else Jett has to say.

“But you don’t even know what the bet _is_ ,” Jett says, scrambling away from the table to catch up to James.

“And I’d like to keep it that way,” James retorts.

“Why?” Jett asks, teasing and taunting. “Afraid you’ll lose?”

James narrows his eyes and comes to a stop, turning to face Jett. He knows Jett’s just goading him now, but dammit, his ego and pride have been bruised enough to last a fucking lifetime. “I’m listening,” he says.

Jett smirks, eyes scanning the hallway, entire body lighting up before he opens his mouth, and James knows that whatever Jett says is going to be a horrible idea. “Three months,” Jett starts. “You’ve got three months to take the geekiest student in the whole school and turn him into someone worth knowing.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Jett,” James says, “after being dumped by Lucy, I’m kind of a nobody right now, so, that won’t work.”

“You’re joking, right?” Jett says, not even waiting for James to reply before he barrels on. “You’re still James freakin’ Diamond, dude. Your mom’s like, the richest person in the entire state. A little breakup isn’t going to ruin your popularity. I bet that once everyone sees how douchey Kendall is, you’ll have everyone crowding around you in sympathy, and you’ll be back on top once again.”

James knows that what Jett’s saying couldn’t be farther from the truth. Jett’s the resident high school douche and that hasn’t changed his rank in popularity whatsoever. People still fawn all over him like he’s the second-coming, even when he treats them like they’re the gum at the bottom of his shoe. High school is a weird fucking place.

“No,” James says. “Even if any of that were to happen, no. People have feelings, man. You can’t just play with them like that.”

Jett lets out a sigh, the frown on his face doing nothing to hide the smirk in his eyes. “I guess you’re right,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I probably wouldn’t want to either if I were you, knowing I’d lose $200 bucks and all.”

Goddammit.

James fucking hates the way Jett knows how to get under his skin like this, picking and choosing the right words and expressions to get James to do whatever craptastic idea it is that’s brewing in Jett’s twisted head.

“Fine, I’m in,” James says. “Now pick the person so I can get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit, James,” Jett says, slinging his arm around James’ shoulder. “I’ll have a name for you at the end of the day, and don’t you worry, it’ll be a good one.”

Jett disappears with a slap to James’ back, and James is left standing there, wondering what the fuck he just agreed to.

“You know there’s no way this can end well, right?” Dak says, sneaking up behind him.

“Heard all that, huh?” James asks, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Dak says. “I don’t know why you agree to the stupid shit Jett comes up with.”

“He just gets under my skin and I can’t help but agree to whatever it is,” James explains.

“Just be careful, dude,” Dak says, before heading off in the direction of his next class.

James still doesn’t understand how the three of them fit together the way they do. Jett’s ego is about the size of freakin’ Texas and he only ever seems to care about things when they’ll benefit him in some way. Dak is his polar opposite, quiet and low-key, and despite his popularity seems to be friends with just about everyone, from the jocks to the theatre geeks to the mathletes and science nerds. How he can even stand to be around someone like Jett is baffling to James, but Dak’s levelheadedness is what keeps James from punching Jett when he’s at his most obnoxious, so he’s more than grateful for his presence.

James doesn’t even remember how he came to be friends with Jett, though he’s pretty certain it probably had something to do with him finding out just how rich James’ mom is and all the ways in which associating with James would boost his own popularity. Jett’s not poor by any means, and his own family is pretty wealthy, but the Stetson name isn’t anywhere near being the household name Diamond is, thanks to the cosmetic empire his mom works so hard on.

Because of James, Jett went from being the arrogant dick nobody liked to the arrogant dick everyone either wanted to date or wanted to be. Even after all the times Jett has gotten James into some kind of trouble, James is still his friend, though he’s starting to wonder why more and more often.

Befriending Dak just kind of happened. They’d both done the fall musical their freshman year and bonded over their dreams of pursuing popstardom when they graduated, and because Jett didn’t want to lose his newfound popularity, welcomed Dak in with open arms.

James feels bad for even thinking it, but he can’t help wondering how much simpler everything would be if he just told Jett to get lost once and for all.

He certainly wouldn’t be in this predicament, stomach twisting in knots, unable to pay attention to anything his teachers are going on about. It’s almost a relief when the last class is over, but knowing what’s ahead makes him want to go back into the class and sit there for another three hours.

Jett’s already waiting by James’ locker when James gets there, arms and legs crossed as he leans cockily against the locker next to James’.

“I got a name for you,” Jett says, getting right down to it.

James acts like he’s not listening, like it takes all his focus and attention to load up his backpack, but Jett’s not having any of it, kicking out at James’ leg.

“Dude, are you paying attention?”

“I’m listening,” James says, sighing.

“Logan Mitchell.”

Cold dread washes over James, lungs freezing in his chest. It’s like the entire world has dropped out from beneath him with the sound of that name, someone he once considered the most important person of his life.

“Pick someone else,” James says gruffly, slamming his locker door shut with more force than necessary.

“Can’t do it, can you?” Jett says, lips twisted up in a sneer.

No, James can’t, doesn’t even want to. He fucking knew he should’ve just told Jett to fuck off before this even started.

“Alright, fine,” Jett says. “Cough up the money.”

James turns to face Jett, hand clenched into a tight fist. He doesn’t have that kind of cash, not right now, and he knows Jett knows that. The only way he’d even be able to come up with that kind of cash would be if he asked his mother for it, and though his mom will give James pretty much anything he wants, that kind of money is out of the question. Yeah, he could probably lie and say he needed new shoes or clothes or something, but considering she just gave him money for that exact reason not even two weeks ago, he doubt it’d fly with her.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s well and truly fucked. He has no way of getting out of this, and with the way he reacted to the person Jett chose, there’s no way in hell Jett’s going to pick someone else.

James doesn’t say a word, turns and stalks down the hall, certain that if he stays near Jett for just a minute longer he’s going to end up punching his face in. Jett’s triumphant cackle is almost enough to have James turning and doing just that, but suddenly Dak’s there, shaking his head, silently telling James to let it go.

James can’t let it go, though. Of all the people in the school, Jett had to choose Logan, Logan who used to be James’ best friend, who he grew up with. There’s no way this is ever going to be okay, and the misery and heartache he was feeling in the face of Lucy dumping him absolutely pales in comparison.

\--

James ignores Jett as much as he possibly can over the next few days, though it’s a lot harder than he thought it’d be. Jett’s seemingly everywhere, sly little smirk on his face like he knows how much this is twisting James up inside. Jett doesn’t say anything, but then again, he doesn’t really have to. The look on his face is enough to know that he’s waiting patiently for James to update him on his progress, progress James hasn’t even attempted to start making.

When James gets the notice that he’s in danger of failing his algebra class, Jett’s somehow right fucking there, smirking.

“I think that’s the perfect way to start things off, don’t you?” It’s like Jett’s face is stuck in permanent smirk mode and it makes James want to throw up.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, shoving the notice into his backpack. It bothers him that Jett’s right, that if James wants to approach Logan, this is a way in.

Logan’s easily the smartest kid in school, has held tight to the number one position in class ranking since freshmen year, and he’s the go-to guy for tutoring in any and every subject.

That fact doesn’t stop James’ hands from shaking as he enters the library after school, spotting Logan tucked into a table at the far end, blessedly alone.

James approaches cautiously, hands clenched tight around the straps of his backpack, stopping dead when Logan lifts his head and looks right at him. He can’t decipher the look that washes over Logan’s face, there and gone in the blink of an eye.

“Hey,” James says nervously, fingers brushing over the edge of the table.

“No,” Logan says, short and terse.

“No?” James repeats, brows furrowed. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Whatever it is,” Logan says, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“But I just needed help with my math class,” James says, but it’s too late; Logan’s gone, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he escapes.

James blinks repeatedly, trying to make sense of what just happened.

With the history between them, he doesn’t even know why he thought it’d be that simple. What seemed like an easy way in has proven to be anything but. The stupid bet with Jett aside, James really does need help with his math class, and every day for a week, he heads to the library after school, Logan at the same table he’s always at, fleeing before James can even get any words out.

“I’m serious, dude,” James says at lunch, picking at his fries. “If looks could kill, I’d be dead a million times over.”

“Well,” Dak says, “maybe he’s just not comfortable here? Maybe he thinks it’s some kind of twisted joke you’re playing on him.”

“Did you forget that it kind of is?” James says harshly.

“No, I know,” Dak says quickly, “but you have to make him think it’s not. Try approaching him somewhere you think he’d be more comfortable at, somewhere where he’d have no reason to think that.”

Huh. Why didn’t James ever think of that?

“Why don’t you just tell Jett you can’t go through with this?” Dak asks, frowning.

James shrugs. He’s already tried explaining it to Dak, and there’s really no way he can make Dak understand if he doesn’t already.

“I’ll see you later,” James says instead. He gathers his tray and his barely eaten lunch, disposing the food and setting the tray on the lid of the garbage can. He can feel Dak’s eyes on him the entire time, and it’s like a breath of fresh air, stepping out of the cafeteria and having that gaze no longer pinned on him.

\--

James waits until after dinner before he makes the drive to Logan’s house. His stomach is twisting and turning, palms sweaty where they grip the steering wheel, and he keeps running through what he wants to say. Nothing sounds good enough, believable enough, and when he pulls up to the curb in front of Logan’s house, he’s ready to turn right back around and go home.

He resists the urge, parking his car and shutting off the engine. He has to keep reminding himself to breathe the entire walk up to the front door, nervousness making sweat trickle down his back.

The sound of the doorbell chiming inside the house startles him, has him ready to back out for what feels like the millionth time, but then the door’s opening and Mrs. Mitchell’s standing there, a shocked smile on her face.

“James Diamond, as I live and breathe,” she says, opening the door wider to let him in.

“Hi, Mrs. Mitchell,” James says politely, reaching out to draw her into a hug. Growing up, she was like the mother he’d always wanted, attentive and caring to the point of being almost overbearing, and he’d loved her for it. She was never too busy to listen to whatever he or Logan wanted to ramble on about, her attention focused solely on them when they were going on and on about school or the song they heard on the radio or the movie they watched the weekend before. It’s one of the things he’s sorely missed over the years, an empty pit inside of him every time his own mother claimed she was too busy for James.

“It’s good to see you, James,” Mrs. Mitchell says, delicate hand cradling James’ face, her eyes suspiciously wet.

“You, too, Mrs. Mitchell,” James says. “Is Logan home?”

“Right, yeah,” Mrs. Mitchell says, clearing her throat. “He’s upstairs. I’m sure you remember where his room is?”

“I do, thank you.”

Mrs. Mitchell pulls away, shooing James up the stairs with soft, heartfelt smile.

James’ heart starts pounding all over again as he climbs the stairs, taking them one by one to prolong the meeting. It doesn’t last near as long as James would have liked, and before he knows it, he’s standing in front of Logan’s door, a room he’d spent so much time in when he was younger, feeling like a stranger who isn’t welcome.

Sad thing is, James know that’s not far from the truth.

He knocks softly, waits for Logan’s quiet _come in_ , and pushes the door open.

It’s almost a shock to see the way Logan’s room hasn’t really changed. The desk and bed are a little bigger, and there’s not quite the mess there used to be, but everything’s in its same place and James is sure he’d still be able to find his way around the room with his eyes closed.

“What are you doing here?”

The tone of Logan’s voice shocks James to his core, cold and hard and angry, and James should’ve known better than to come here.

“Just wanted to talk,” James says softly, shrugging a shoulder. “You kept ignoring me every time I tried at school, figured maybe you’d be more comfortable here.”

“Well, I’m not,” Logan says tersely. “You can’t just barge into my house, into my room like you own the place. Did you even take a second to think about how uncomfortable and unsettled it would make me feel to have you here, in a place that’s supposed to be _mine_ , where I’m supposed to be able to feel comfortable all the time?”

James stutters out a _no_ , shakes his head as his eyes roam around the room, feeling just as unsettled as Logan.

“You should leave, James,” Logan says quietly, turning his attention back to the books spread out on the desk in front of him.

“Why won’t you talk to me, man?” James asks. “I’m trying here, but you keep shutting me down every time.”

“Trying?” Logan asks, spinning in his chair to face James. “It’s too late for you to try anything, James. You should’ve tried four years ago when I actually needed you, instead of you ditching me to fuck off and do whatever it was you deemed more important than sticking around to help your so-called best friend. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got nothing left to say to you, and I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me. We’re done here.”

James feels the words like knives, stabbing and twisting inside of him. He leaves without another word, barely managing to wave goodbye to Mrs. Mitchell as he makes his way out of the house, the door slamming shut behind him.

He throws himself into his car, peeling away from the curb with the squeal of his tires, heart aching deep in his chest. This isn’t about the bet anymore, isn’t about his pride or a wad of money, probably hasn’t been for a while now. To hell with Jett and his stupid ideas. This is about making it up to Logan, showing him how dumb and wrong he was all those years ago, how Logan’s friendship meant the world to him and he was an idiot to throw it away.

Despite Logan’s insistence to leave him alone, James can’t. Hearing how angry and hurt and betrayed Logan still feels all these years later, James just can’t let it go. Logan might hate him, will probably continue ignoring James, possibly tell him to fuck off or get lost, but James isn’t going to stop, not until Logan forgives him, until Logan sees just how sorry and sincere James is being, even if it takes the rest of their lives.

\--

The problem is, James doesn’t really know much about Logan anymore. Before, he’d always know what to get Logan to have him smiling and thanking him profusely, to have him saying he couldn’t accept the gift because it was too big or too much, and it makes his heart clench painfully knowing things aren’t like that now.

Every purchase he makes is a shot in the dark, and it’s not really a surprise when Logan declines each and every one of them. James feels bad sometimes about the way he’s trying to get close to Logan, like he’s trying to buy his friendship, but with Logan not accepting any of it, James lets the guilt melt away.

\--

“Thought you didn’t have any money,” Jett says, pulling the tickets out of James’ back pocket.

“Got my monthly allowance,” James says, snatching the tickets back from Jett, but not before Jett can see what they are.

“A math lecture? Seriously?” Jett snorts and shakes his head. “How fucking nerdy.”

James rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond, walking away instead.

It’s almost second-nature these days for James to know where Logan is: if he’s not at his usual table in the library, he’s in the chemistry lab, and if he’s not there, he’s in one of his teacher’s classrooms, helping them grade papers or discussing whatever material they’re working on in class at the moment.

Luckily for James, he doesn’t have to do too much searching. Logan’s sitting in the library, feet curled up underneath him, thoroughly absorbed in the book he’s reading. James cautiously sits down across from him, not saying a word, hands folded together on top of the table.

“You’re just not going to give up, are you?” Logan asks, not lifting his eyes from the book.

James smiles, even though Logan can’t see it. “Nope, I’m not.”

Logan sighs, using his finger as a temporary bookmark, finally looking up. “What ridiculous and outrageous suggestion do you have today?”

James chuckles softly at that. So maybe dropping a few hundred bucks on different orchestra concerts and science lectures was a bit much, but after Logan turned them down, James was able to sell them, even if it was for less than what he paid for them.

James pulls the tickets from his pocket, sliding them across the table to Logan. “A math lecture; Phoebe something-or-other.”

“What, seriously?” Logan asks, picking up the tickets to examine them. “These have been sold out for months, though.”

“The perks of having Brooke Diamond as your mother, I guess,” James says. He can practically taste how close Logan is to agreeing to go with him, and if he tells Logan how much he actually spent getting those tickets, Logan’ll turn him down in a heartbeat.

“I guess,” Logan agrees.

“So?”

“If I agree, will you stop bothering me?” Logan asks, sliding the tickets back over to James.

James’ lips quirk up in a smile. “Probably not,” he says.

Logan shakes his head, but the small smile at the corner of his lips warms James down to his core.

“I’ll see you there Saturday afternoon then, I guess,” Logan says, immediately going back to his book.

“Yeah, Saturday afternoon,” James agrees. He leaves a ticket with Logan, knocks his knuckles against the tabletop, barely resisting the urge to skip on his way out of the library.

It’s not much, but it feels like a major turning point between them.

\--

James can’t decide if Saturday comes too fast or too slow. His nerves are unsettled the entire morning, and when it comes time to get dressed, James has no idea what to wear. He doesn’t have “smart clothes”. Everything he owns is either for comfort or fashion, sweatpants and old, holey t-shirts, jeans that fit like a second-skin and screen-printed t-shirts with whatever fancy brand label they are emblazoned on the front.

He finds a button-down shirt at the back of his closet, and though it’s a little tight across his chest and shoulders, it’ll suffice. The black jeans are a little tight, but they’re the only thing he owns that look halfway decent paired with the shirt. He opts for his glasses instead of his contacts, figuring they make him look a hell of a lot smarter, and he leaves his hair the way it is, dried flatly to his head.

It’s not a surprise to find his mom’s car gone when he goes out to the garage. Even her weekends are spent at the office or away on some supposedly important business trip. James lets the irritation roll off him as he climbs into his car, carefully backing out of the garage and down the driveway.

It takes him almost a half hour to get to the college where the lecture’s being held, and almost just as long to find somewhere to park. He’s cutting it so close and he has to run the distance between his car and the college when he sees Logan pacing back and forth, like maybe he’s stuck on the thought that James ditched him, and James puts on an extra burst of speed, fighting to catch his breath by the time he gets there.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says between breaths. “Traffic was hell.”

“Whatever, let’s go,” Logan says. “Almost made us late.”

James curses himself silently the entire time, feeling like whatever progress they made the other day has come completely undone.

He doesn’t catch a whole lot of what’s going on, and the bits and pieces that he does catch make no sense to him whatsoever. His entire focus is on Logan, cataloguing every nuance, the way he’s so enraptured in what the speaker’s saying, the way his eyes seem to glow with happiness even in the dimness of the auditorium. Despite the tension he feels between them, it’s still the best afternoon he’s had in longer than he can remember.

His hopes of hanging out with Logan after the lecture are quickly dashed when Logan merely says thanks before taking off, leaving James standing there, dumbfounded. He tries calling out to him, but Logan doesn’t turn around, keeps walking in the opposite direction and James has no other choice but to return to his car and head home.

\--

James is at a loss as to where to go from here. He’d thought things would be easier, that he wouldn’t have to try so hard now, but if anything, it’s even harder than it was before the math lecture.

Logan seems to have turned ignoring James into an art form, the way he’s never where James thinks he’ll be, the way he’s suspiciously absent from the hallways when James would see him a dozen times during the day before.

It’s almost enough to have James ripping his hair out. _Almost._

The idea of going back to Logan’s house floats around in his head, but with how big of a mess that turned out to be last time, James quickly dismisses it.

Between the homework that’s finally started stacking up and the try-outs and rehearsals for the fall musical, James has little time to devote to getting close to Logan, much to his dismay. It grates on him every day when Jett’s there, stupid fucking smirk on his face that silently asks if James is ready to throw in the towel, and James is thisclose to shoving the $200 at Jett and telling him to fuck off forever. The money, the bet, none of it matters anymore, but he’ll be damned if he lets Jett get one over on him.

\--

The month of rehearsals flies by and James is grateful for Dak’s presence. Without him around James wouldn’t have had the focus and drive he needed to portray his role and memorize his parts.

The butterflies are out in full-force opening night, however. It’s the same nervous thrill he’s gotten every year prior, and it’s bittersweet that this is the last musical he’ll be participating in. It’s what gives him that last little bit of a push he needs to fill his role the way he knows he can, and when the curtains rise, he’s unprepared for the face he sees sitting dead center.

It’s almost enough to have him tripping up, all the memorized lines on the verge of fleeing his mind, but the hesitant thumbs up has him slipping into his character like it’s a second-skin.

The reaction from the crowd is heady and intoxicating, fills him with a gleeful warmth like nothing he’s ever known before, and when the curtains draw shut, it’s damn near impossible for him to stop smiling.

James races through removing his stage costume, scrubbing the makeup off his face so fast he’s probably missed more than a couple spots, but after a quick word with the director and a slew of hugs and _great show, dude_ s, James is off, speed-walking from the dressing rooms out to the front of the performing arts’ center, pushing through the crowd in search of Logan.

He had fully expected Logan to be gone already, so it takes him by surprise when Logan’s just standing there, playbill rolled up in his hand, leaning against the wall like he doesn’t feel remotely out of place, though the tight look in his eyes betrays his posture.

“Hey,” James says, a little out of breath, the shock and thrill of a nearly perfect performance still swimming through his veins.

“Uh, hey,” Logan says, standing up straight. “That was a great show.”

James beams, cheeks aching from smiling so wide. “Thanks, man,” he says. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’ve been to every musical before this, so,” Logan replies, shrugging his shoulders.

The knowledge that Logan’s seen him perform before fills James with a warmth he can’t quite explain, and a tinge of guilt that makes him want to bang his head against a wall, all those years lost.

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” James asks, unsure of where the words even came from.

“Uh.” Logan bites his lip, brow furrowing like he’s deep in thought.

“Hey, it’s cool,” James says, fighting the bite of disappointment he feels at the prospect of Logan turning him down. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“No, I mean, yeah, sure,” Logan says quickly, “food sounds good.”

James smiles again, small and soft, one meant for Logan only. “Great. Did you wanna follow me there, or?”

“I uh—I came with some friends, so,” Logan replies.

“Oh, are they still here?” James asks, mentally trying to pull up the image of Logan in the audience and the people that surrounded him.

“No,” Logan says. “I told them to go ahead without me, that I knew someone in the musical who could probably give me a ride.”

“That’s cool,” James says, motioning for Logan to follow him. It feels awesome to know that despite how their last meeting went, Logan’s obviously willing to give him another chance.

The walk to the car and the drive to the diner James chooses is quiet, almost verging into awkward territory. The idea of sitting through a meal with the same awkward quiet has James second-guessing the decision, but, pulling into the diner’s parking lot, figures they’re already here so they might as well go through with it.

Awkward as it is, it’s time he’s spending with Logan, time where Logan isn’t telling James how shitty of a friend he was all those years ago, and he’ll take what he can get at this point to prove to Logan that he’s different, that he’s changed, that he’s not the same immature idiot that fled when Logan needed him most.

The diner isn’t anything fancy, vinyl booths that have seen better days, but their fries and burgers are some of the best James has ever had, and it’s always his first stop when he’s in need of some comfort food.

The waitress comes by and takes their order, returning a few moments later with their drinks, and James ends up fiddling with the wrapper from his straw, trying to think of something, anything, to say.

“Is it sad knowing this is the last musical you’ll get to do?” Logan asks when James fails to come up with anything.

“Kind of, yeah,” James says. “There’s still the spring play, but that’s different than this. Different director, different material, different cast, all that stuff. But yeah, y’know, I’m pretty sure it’ll hit all us seniors when the curtains close on the final performance. Right now I think everyone’s just riding the high of pulling off such an awesome show.”

“It was really good,” Logan says, smiling down at his glass of tea. “You were good.”

James offers a quiet thanks, an uncomfortable silence looming over them. James isn’t quite sure what to say, doesn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing and have Logan leave. There are so many things between them that are likely to be sensitive subjects, things Logan won’t want to talk about, especially with James, and even though James knows eventually they’ll need to talk about those things, it feels like too heavy of a subject to delve right into with their friendship feeling so fragile and new.

The food comes just in the nick of time, cutting through some of the awkward silence that has built around them.

“This is really good,” Logan says, wiping his mouth with a corner of a napkin.

“Right,” James says, licking the salt from the fries off his fingers.

The food disappears quickly, and before James knows it, he’s paying the bill and leading Logan back outside to his car.

“Thanks for the food,” Logan says, after they’re belted in and James is navigating the streets to Logan’s house.

“Not a problem,” James replies.

“Did you uh—did you still need help with your algebra class?” Logan asks, soft and tentative, twisting the seatbelt between his fingers when James glances at him out of the corner of his eye.  
"Yeah," James says. "Brought my grade up a little, but I'm still on the verge of failing. Math just isn't my best subject."

"If you want, I could help you after school or something," Logan suggests.

"Yes, yeah," James says quickly, like if he doesn't get the words out fast enough Logan'll take back his offer. "That'd be great," he says, trying to tamp down the excitement he feels at Logan’s offer. It’s not exactly anything huge, but Logan’s still reaching out, allowing James this little bit of connection between them, and James will take what he can get, prove to Logan that he’s all in to get their friendship where it was before.

"Cool," Logan says, and then James is pulling into the driveway of Logan's house and Logan's gone with a quiet _see ya_ , the door closing softly behind him.

James rides the high all the way home, excitement making it hard for him to sleep. He's got four more performances over the weekend, but it's almost impossible for him to close his eyes. The hours tick by on the clock, shadows moving across the wall as the sky outside lightens, sleep finally taking hold.

\--

The weekend seems to drag, in spite of the final musical performances. It’s not that they’re any better or worse than the first performance, even though the production runs a lot smoother, it’s just that they’re missing that spark for James. It’s great, awesome, being on the stage, the feedback from the audience reverberating through him, but the exhilaration he felt opening night knowing Logan was there supporting him is absent.

James skips out on the cast party, claims exhaustion as an excuse, but by the time he gets home, all he wants to do is crawl into bed and sleep for the next three days. This year’s production was by far the best, and James put his all into it, but as much as he loves being up on that stage, he’s grateful that it’s over.

He barely manages to scrub off the remainder of the stage-makeup before he face plants into bed, asleep almost instantly.

\--

Jett’s waiting at James’ locker the next morning, and James suppresses a sigh, rolling his eyes before Jett even speaks.

“How’s it going?” Jett asks, smarmy grin in place.

“Fine,” James says, figuring that if he keeps his answers short and clipped Jett will walk away.

No such luck.

“It’s been over a month,” Jett says, “and it doesn’t look like you’re getting anywhere.”

“Yeah, well,” James says, shrugging a shoulder. Even though the bet stopped mattering to him weeks ago, he feels the need to keep up the façade that he’s really trying to win.

James is saved from whatever Jett was going to say by the warning bell going off. He gives Jett a tight smile, shoulders his backpack, and leaves without another word, getting sucked into the crowd of bodies moving through the hallways.

He knows he’ll eventually have to tell Jett that he’s backing out of the bet, give Jett the $200 that are on the line, but he can’t quite bring himself to do it just yet. It doesn’t make much sense, even to himself, but he’s waiting for the right moment where he can tell Jett to take the money and his “friendship”, and shove it up his ass.

It’s his senior year of high school, for god’s sake. He’s supposed to be having fun, his final year in this hellhole, and instead he’s letting Jett control and manipulate him. The sooner this entire bet thing goes away, the better it’ll be for everyone.

\--

James finds Logan in the library after school, papers and books spread out over the table. He grimaces when he sees that the papers are actually his, big red D’s and F’s across every page.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Logan says, gesturing at the papers. “I told your math teacher I’d be tutoring you, and she gave me these to help you with your troubled areas.”

“Troubled areas?” James says with a snort. “How about the whole damn class.”

“There isn’t any part of it that you’ve understood? I mean, it’s still pretty early in the year, the material can’t be _that_ hard.”

James frowns and shakes his head. Yeah, he knows he’s not a genius like Logan, that numbers and letters and exponents or whatever will never make any kind of sense to him, but to have Logan point it out so boldly, lay it out there like he just can’t fathom how James can be so dumb, really kind of hurts.

“Numbers have never really been my thing,” he says quietly, dropping his backpack to the floor and pulling out a chair opposite from Logan, settling down into it.

“That’s okay,” Logan says, soft and apologetic. “We can start off easy, work our way up to where you’re at in class.”

“Sure,” James says. If he’s got any hope of understanding the material, Logan’s it. Everything always used to be a hell of a lot easier to understand when Logan explained it, and James is hoping that that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

Logan slides a sheet of paper over to him, placing a pencil on top. The simplicity of the problems written on it is truthfully a little insulting. 7x=21? 81/x=9? 4+x=13? He kind of wants to laugh, only there’s really nothing funny about how dumb Logan apparently thinks he is.

He slides the paper back over without filling in any of the answers.

“Seriously?” he says. “I’m not actually an idiot. I understand how to do all of that.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply you were an idiot, James,” Logan says, “I just wanted to see if you understood the basics.”

“I understand the basics just fine,” James says, a little harsher than intended. “It’s the equations or whatever with two letters that I don’t understand, and the factoring and foiling or whatever it’s called.”

“Yeah, okay,” Logan says, flipping through the papers in front of him. “The two variable equations can be tricky. There’s a lot of work involved in solving them.”

James tries focusing on what Logan’s saying, but none of it makes any kind of sense. It all sounds like a bunch of gibberish to him.

He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

“Here, okay,” Logan says, copying an equation from one of James’ tests onto a clean sheet of paper. He walks James through it step by step, explaining what he’s doing and why he has to do it, and even though James is a little more than confused, it’s starting to make some kind of sense.

They spend the next hour going through the first half of the problems on the test, Logan guiding James through each one, offering soft words of praise when James gets the next step correct.

Logan’s phone going off alerts them to how late it’s gotten, and Logan’s quick to apologize, says, “Crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what time it is. My mom’s expecting me home for dinner.”

“No, that’s okay,” James says. “I should probably be heading home, anyway.” There’s no real reason for him to go home, however. His mom’s probably still at the office or out schmoozing a client somewhere. All James has to go home to is an empty house that feels bigger and bigger every time he walks into it.

“If you wanted, you could probably come over tomorrow after school instead of sitting here in the library?” Logan says, shoving books and papers into his backpack.

“What if there are other people who need tutoring or something?” James asks.

Logan shrugs, says, “There never really is. In the entire two months I’ve been sitting here after school, you’re the only who’s ever tracked me down for help.”

Something about that statement makes James’ heart clench painfully in his chest, a bitter reminder of just how alone Logan must be. It’s probably the entire reason Jett chose Logan; even the ones who are considered loners have a group of people they’re “alone” with.

“Oh,” James says, then, “yeah, that’ll work then.”

“Okay,” Logan replies, lips quirked up in a barely there smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

James watches Logan walk out of the library, his head bent low, finally moving when the librarian peeks her head around the bookcases to ask if he needs anything.

“No, sorry,” James says, shaking his head. “I was just getting ready to leave.”

“If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” the librarian says, ducking away after James gives her a polite nod.

James picks up his backpack and slings it over his shoulder, quietly making his way out of the library.

Admittedly, he’s a little nervous about spending time with Logan at Logan’s house. Last time it really didn’t go over so well, but he mostly blames that on himself, showing up unannounced and unwelcomed. He really shouldn’t have expected Logan to suddenly be okay with his presence, not after everything.

He’s pretty sure this time will be completely different; Logan actually invited him over. That’s already infinitely better than last time.

James drives home, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio, feeling lighter and happier than he has in a while.

\--

Being in Logan’s house again, hunched over the dining room table while Logan helps him with homework makes James feel like they’re in middle school all over again, like the last four years haven’t happened. Mrs. Mitchell is the same comforting presence James remembers from then, popping in periodically to offer drinks or snacks and it’s amusing to see the embarrassed flush on Logan’s cheeks.

Logan grumbles under his breath about them not being kids anymore, and it makes James chuckle.

“Dude, chill,” he says. “It’s awesome.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Logan says, burying his face in the book he’s reading.

“I think it’s nice that she’s so caring,” James says, frowning at how his own mother had been the few times he’d had people over to his house. She’d tell James she’d be up in her office, that she didn’t want to be disturbed so James absolutely needed to keep the volume down. It was completely unheard of for her to stick around, and eventually James stopped wishing she would.

Logan shrugs, says, “I guess,” then asks, “are you done with those equations?”

James shakes his head and focuses his attention back on the paper Logan put in front of him.

The remainder of the week follows much the same. It grates on James just a little how every conversation was always strictly about math or school, never veering into personal territory.

It’s Friday now, and James probably has twenty minutes before Logan starts packing everything up and telling James he’s done for the night, that James should probably get going.

James sets his pencil down and Logan looks up at him, brows drawn in question.

“Are you done with those?” Logan asks, gesturing to the notebook in front of James.

James shakes his head, swallows nervously, and asks, “Where’s your dad?”

Logan’s eyes go blank, no hint of emotion in them. Everything about his posture is screaming tense and uncomfortable and James wants to take back the question, wants to make Logan forget he ever asked, but he can’t, knows he can’t, that nothing he says or does will make it go away.

“He left,” Logan says, cold and emotionless.

“He left?” James asks, because apparently he doesn’t fucking know when to leave well enough alone.

“Didn’t want to have a faggot for a son, so,” Logan replies, the words spilling out like they’re nothing, like they’re not hurting him to say or think about.

“Jesus,” James says, shaking his head. He’s sick, sick at Logan’s father, at himself. He was no fucking better, took off when Logan had the courage to confess something so big, so important, and James fucking ran because he didn’t know what to do with it, ran and didn’t look back.

“You should go,” Logan says, soft and barely audible, but the emotion there, the hurt James can practically taste has James wanting to stay.

Logan gives him no choice, though, leaves everything where it is on the table before he disappears, heavy footfalls thudding up the stairs.

James swallows roughly, shoves his belongings into his backpack and leaves. His stomach is twisting and turning, bile burning the back of his throat. He didn’t—doesn’t—care that Logan’s gay. That has never mattered to him. It wasn’t because he was disgusted that he ditched Logan back then. He just didn’t know what to do, what to think or say, and he was an idiot, so fucking dumb, and he hates himself for it. Losing your best friend and losing your father over something you can’t choose or change? Jesus.

James doesn’t blame Logan for being mad at him. He’s mad, furious, at himself. He can’t even begin to imagine how alone and betrayed Logan had to feel then. Hell, for all James knows, Logan _still_ feels that way.

It’s all James can think about when he gets home, over the entire weekend, the way he was so wrapped up in his newfound friendships with Jett and Dak that he completely cast Logan aside, didn’t spare him a second thought because he didn’t know what to make of Logan’s confession. His once best friend who trusted him with something so important, only to have James turn his back on him.

God, does he hate himself right now.

It’s not a surprise that James doesn’t see Logan in the halls or in the library at school the next week. If Logan doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. He has a brief thought of going back to Logan’s house, to prove to Logan that he’s not going anywhere this time, but decides against it once again. Logan obviously needs time and James showing up at his house isn’t going to just instantly make things better, no matter how much James wishes that was the case.

When another week passes without so much as a glimpse of Logan, James can’t resist anymore. He drives over to Logan’s house, noting the absence of Mrs. Mitchell’s car in the driveway next to Logan’s, James shuts off his car and jogs up the walkway, ringing the doorbell in rapid succession until he hears feet stomping down the stairs.

Logan opens the door, smiling, and the look on his face compared to how he was feeling last time James saw him throws him for a loop.

The smile quickly disappears, though, Logan’s eyes guarded and shadowed.

“James,” Logan says, “what are you doing here?”

“Haven’t seen you at school at all,” James says, “just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Logan says, distracted.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway snags James’ attention and he turns, expecting it to be Mrs. Mitchell, but the car isn’t one he’s ever seen, and the person getting out isn’t any more familiar to him than the car.

Logan’s smile is back in place when James turns to him, one that’s soft and fond, and it clicks in an instant that this stranger, whoever he is, is Logan’s boyfriend. The realization makes James uneasy, something sharp and unpleasant curling in his stomach, and he has to turn away when Logan greets the stranger, the soft sound of lips meeting like nails on a chalkboard.

“Uh, James,” Logan says, pulling James’ attention back to him. “This is Carlos. Carlos, that’s James.”

James offers a tight smile and an even tighter handshake, shaking his head and muttering some excuse about how he forgot his mom needed him home tonight before he all but sprints to his car, chest heaving as he shifts into drive and speeds away.

He’s not homophobic; he’s not. He knows he’s not, but seeing Logan and Carlos together makes something inside him twist uncomfortably, a _no, bad, wrong_ feeling spreading through his veins that has him ready to punch himself.

He parks his car and shuts off the engine, rests his head against the steering wheel as he takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. When he looks up, he’s not entirely surprised to find that he’s in front of Jett’s house, cars filling the driveway and lining the streets, music audible even from where he’s parked.

It’s a relief to find Dak there, his nerves already settling as Dak hands him a red plastic cup, bitter tang of beer hitting his nose.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Dak says, leaning in so James can hear him over the noise of the crowd and music.

“Been busy,” James says, nose wrinkling at the smell of alcohol on Dak’s breath.

Seriously, it’s barely even dark outside, and everyone already appears to be three sheets to the wind. James doesn’t understand how almost the entire student body does this, leaves school and shows up at Jett’s almost immediately, drinking into all hours of the night, every weekend without fail. He also doesn’t understand how the police never show up, despite the ridiculous volume of noise that can be heard from outside.

“James, my man,” Jett says, pretty blonde thing attached to his arm as he stumbles into the kitchen where James and Dak are.

James sighs. Can Jett just not be a dick for one fucking night?

“Where’s what’s-his-face?” Jett asks, looking around the room.

“Probably at home,” James says, swallowing a mouthful of beer, each swallow going down easier than the last.

“That’s probably best,” Jett says, smirking. “Not like a loser like him would even know what to do at a party like this.”

“Shut up, Jett,” James says through gritted teeth.

“He’ll always be a loser geekboy, James, no matter how much time you spend with him. I don’t know why you just don’t give me my money now and call it quits and stop wasting your time with him. It’s only gonna drag your reputation down.”

Before James even knows he’s moving, he’s got Jett pushed up against the wall, hands fisted in the collar of Jett’s shirt, faces inches apart.

“I swear to god, Jett,” James says, jerking Jett forward and back so his head hits the wall with a resounding thud, “if you don’t shut up, I will make you shut up.”

“James, dude,” Dak says, hauling James away from Jett.

James jerks out of Dak’s grip, shaking his head as he stomps off, blood boiling beneath his skin. Fucking Jett and his stupid fucking mouth.

Who does Jett even think he is? What does he think gives him the right to talk about Logan like that? Jett’s a nobody on his own, a fact that makes James smirk. Without James, Jett’s even lower on the totem pole than Logan is. Yeah, Logan might not have any friends— _but he has a boyfriend_ , the bitter voice in his head says—but it’s nothing compared to the things people used to say about Jett. No one found anything remotely likeable about Jett, his attitude and arrogance doing nothing in his favor. James saved him from being the douchey outcast, and apparently Jett thinks that gives him the right to treat everyone like garbage, even James.

James shakes his head and looks up, surprised to see the house he’s in front of isn’t his own. Apparently, through the anger and irritation, he somehow managed to drive himself back to Logan’s.

He’s not entirely sure he’s welcome now, what with his less-than-warm welcome to Carlos, the way he made that bullshit excuse he’s sure Logan saw right through. He has nowhere else to go, though, doesn’t want to go back to his empty house and stew in the anger still simmering under his skin.

James parks his car and shuts off the engine, quickly making his way to the front door before he can change his mind. The door opens almost immediately after he knocks, and he’s a little put off by the look Logan gives him.

“What do you want, James?” Logan asks, voice quiet and tired, resigned.

“Was hoping we could hang out or something,” James says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Thought your mom needed you at home,” Logan says, clearly not even trying to hide the irritation he feels about James lying to him.

James wants to say sorry, wants to apologize for how he lied and took off like that, but how can he apologize when he doesn’t even know why he felt so unsettled like that?

Instead, he prolongs the lie, knows Logan will be able to see it for what it is, and says, “Guess she didn’t need me after all.”

Logan’s brows rise, lips pursed before he says, “Carlos is still here,” like he’s expecting James to make another excuse to leave.

“Cool,” James says, then, “you gonna let me in, or am I gonna have to stand out here all night?”

Logan’s shock is clear as day, but he opens the door wider, steps out of the way to let James through.

Carlos is in the living room, and he looks just as surprised to see James as Logan did. “Uh, hey,” he says, toying with the remote in his hands.

“Hey. Carlos, right?” James asks, waiting for Carlos’ nod. “Sorry about earlier,” he says.

“Don’t worry about it, man, it’s cool,” Carlos says. “Moms are demanding like that.”

Even though it’s meant to brush off the apology, make light of it, James feels like a dick, but he’s equal parts grateful that Logan didn’t tell him it was a lie. He’s not sure how he’d deal with that.

“Yeah,” James says, shrugging in a _what can you do?_ kind of way.

“Right,” Logan says, finally speaking up. “We’re in the middle of a movie, if you still want to join us.”

James smiles and nods, taking a seat at the far end of the sofa, trying to keep his eyes on the screen instead of the way Carlos and Logan are curled together. His stomach resumes flipping and churning unpleasantly, that same sharp curl of something he doesn’t know how to name sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach.

It feels so unfair that Logan is infinitely more comfortable in Carlos’ presence than he is in James’, feels wrong on so many different levels. Carlos wasn’t there when Logan was younger, wasn’t there when Logan was the new kid with big geeky glasses that no one seemed to want to talk to.

_But you weren’t there when Logan needed you_ , the voice in his head says. _Carlos probably was_.

It makes him angry at himself all over again, the years he lost, that he ultimately threw away.

The movie ends and James didn’t pay attention to a second of it, has no idea what Carlos and Logan are talking about as they pull apart the plot points to discuss them. Every attempt to include James in the discussion ends with James nodding his head, agreeing with who knows what.

It’s clear from the barely restrained sighs Logan’s letting out that he knows James has no idea what they’re talking about.

“I’m gonna order a pizza,” Logan says, finally snagging James’ attention when he rises from the sofa to get to the kitchen.

James nods belatedly, Logan already in the kitchen. He’s left alone in the living room with Carlos, and the silence around them is anything but comforting.

“So,” Carlos says.

“So,” James echoes, “how’d you meet Logan?” That really wasn’t what James intended to say, but it’s been at the forefront of his mind the entire hour he’s been sitting here.

“Um, his mom helped my parents find a house when we moved here last year,” Carlos says. “We kind of hit it off, I guess.”

“Huh,” James says, “that’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Carlos says, smiling. “How do you know Logan?”

James picks at the fraying hole in the leg of his jeans, surprised that Logan hasn’t told Carlos everything yet. “We used to be best friends,” he says, throat suddenly tight.

“Pizza will be here in twenty,” Logan says, saving James from anymore of Carlos’ questioning.

He doesn’t want to have to explain to Carlos what happened, the mistakes he made, doesn’t want to see the look of disgust and anger that’ll surely be a result, doesn’t want to know that he’s completely undeserving of Logan’s friendship after what he did.

Luckily, the rest of the night passes without any further questioning from Carlos, and James is surprised to find how much he’s enjoying himself, even in the face of Carlos and Logan and their coupledom.

As unprepared as he was for Carlos’ introduction, James finds he doesn’t mind Carlos’ presence half as much as he thought he would. Carlos is at Logan’s more often than not now, and his unending energy is a bit much at times, especially when Logan’s trying to help James with his math homework.

James finds himself biting his tongue constantly, trying to keep from yelling at Carlos to just sit down, please. He’s so much of a distraction, bouncing from the dining room to the living room to the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth, pulling Logan away when James is in the middle of asking him a question, and it’s those times where James just wants to tell Carlos to go away, leave.

It’s not his house, not his place, and he knows he’d be the one to be asked to leave if he said so much as one bad word to Carlos.

When he’s not buried up to his neck in homework, however, Carlos is awesome. He’s an endless supply of jokes and laughs, teasing and taunting in a way that’s so playful it doesn’t register anywhere near threatening.

Logan’s nearly all smiles all the time, dimples carved deep into his cheeks, and James can’t get enough of seeing it. It hurts, though, in a way he can’t explain, when the wide smile turns soft and caring when Logan’s looking at Carlos.

\--

James is jerked away from the game of Mario Kart the three of them are immersed in when his phone buzzes in his pocket. “Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, pausing the game before he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

_Movie in 20. u in?_

James is ready to say no, fingers poised to reply when another text comes in.

_pls dude. cant take another minute of jett alone._

James sighs, types out _be there in 15_ , sliding the phone back into his pocket.

“I’ve gotta go,” James says, tossing the controller onto the coffee table.

“Everything alright?” Logan asks, head cocked to the side, like he’s trying to detect if James is lying, making another excuse just to get away.

“Yeah,” James says, “couple friends wanna see a movie, so.”

“Oh,” Logan says, lips turned down. “I guess we’ll see you later, then.”

“Yeah, see ya,” James says, giving a small wave before he lets himself out.

\--

Dak appears to be about as fed up with Jett as James is, if the way his gritted teeth and clenched fists are anything to go by.

“Swear to god,” he says when James approaches, “I am two seconds from punching him in his face.”

James is honestly taken aback. Dak is always so calm and levelheaded, and for him to actually want to throw a punch, things have to be _bad_.

“Dude,” James says, “what’s going on?”

“He just won’t shut up,” Dak explains. “Keeps running his mouth about everything, acting like he’s all high and mighty and everyone’s beneath him.”

It’s really nothing new, but Dak’s never had to deal with it all on his own, and James really does feel bad about leaving Dak alone with Jett, but then again, he’s spending so much of his time with Logan and that really just overpowers all the bad.

“Ignore him, dude,” James says, but even as he says it, he knows it’s so much harder than that.

Dak levels him with a look that could kill.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” James says. “What movie are we seeing?”

“I have no idea,” Dak says. “Jett’s getting the tickets.”

The movie is nothing short of atrocious, a pathetic excuse of a horror movie that’s all gore and absolutely no horror, and James can’t get out of there fast enough when it’s over.

“Leaving already?” Jett asks, arms folded over his chest as he walks closer to James, looking more hilarious than threatening.

“You wanted to see a movie, we saw a movie,” James says. He’d really rather have his teeth pulled—without any drugs—than spend any more time with Jett.

“If you’re going, go,” Jett says, eyes flashing anger, guard dropping momentarily to flash the slightest bit of hurt before there’s nothing left but irritation and frustration.

James’ stomach flips, unused to seeing any kind of emotion from Jett that’s not anger or arrogance or smugness. It’s not like he’s unaware of the fact that Jett’s human, that he has actual emotions and feelings, but the way Jett carries himself, the way he acts as though he’s untouchable, like he’s above it all, makes it all too easy to forget he’s actually capable of feeling. It makes James wonder exactly what kind of person Jett would be if he didn’t hide behind all that smug arrogance and ‘I’m better than you’ attitude.

James heaves out a sigh and straightens his back, squares his shoulders and faces Jett, says, “Well, what do you wanna do then?”

Jett shrugs, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his demeanor something so far from what James is used to seeing.

“Video games at my place?” Dak suggests, startling James, who didn’t even hear him approach, thought he was still waiting in the ridiculously long line to use the bathroom.

“Sure,” James says, and looks to Jett to make sure it’s okay, not surprised in the least to see that hard, arrogant edge cloaked over him again.

“Whatever,” Jett says, as close to an ‘okay’ as he’ll give.

James drives behind Jett’s car, following them to Dak’s house.

As much as it pains him to admit it, he ends up having a better time than he would have thought. It’s almost like things are back to normal, back to how they were before Logan re-entered the picture, and James almost finds himself longing for that normalcy again, until he remembers just how badly he screwed up with Logan in the first place, that if he hadn’t ditched Logan when Logan needed him, he wouldn’t have been friends with Jett and Dak.

Being friends with Logan is his normal, he realizes. Jett and Dak have been something closer to substitutes for Logan’s friendship, and James feels like a dick all over again for it. Dak’s been nothing but kind and accepting and he deserves way more of a friendship than James has ever given him.

Jett’s an entirely different story, one James isn’t quite sure how to sort out in his head. He’d always thought Jett was his friend solely for what James’ name did for him, but from the way Jett acted earlier, it’s clear that that’s not the whole case, that Jett more than likely does care for James in a way only Jett understands, and it frustrates James, makes him wish Jett could just be more open and honest, could actually be someone James would want to call a friend.

It’s still relatively early when James says he’s tired, that he thinks he’s gonna head home, but Dak and Jett just wave him off, so absorbed in their game of Call of Duty they probably didn’t even hear him.

James briefly debates heading back to Logan’s, then realizes he really is tired and drives straight home, the house quiet and unsurprisingly empty when he gets there. He heads right to his room, barely managing the energy it takes to strip down to his boxers before he falls into bed, covers pulled up over his head.

\--

The sound of his phone vibrating against the wood flooring of his room wakes James, loud and incessant as James tries to untwist himself from the blankets, hand smacking against the floor until he finally reaches his phone.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight at the offending brightness of the screen, then squints at it until his eyes adjust to the light.

_what’re we doing today?”_ the screen says, Logan’s name above the text.

James yawns and scrubs a hand through his hair, unlocks the screen and taps out a message.

_idk dude, I’m still half asleep_

The reply is almost instantaneous.

_it’s already 10, get out of bed_

James snorts, fingers flying over the screen.

_it’s the wknd. I’ll sleep as late as I want_

James pushes himself out of bed anyway, stumbling sleepily across the room to his dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, socks and boxers. His phone vibrates in his hand, Logan’s reply flashing on the screen.

_whatever, lazy. Carlos and I are bored._

James has to physically restrain himself from typing out what comes to mind, a biting, sarcastic response about what Carlos and Logan could be doing that doesn’t involve bothering James. It makes him smile a little, though, knowing that even though Logan is with Carlos, he’s still texting James to see what he wants to do.

_just head over here then_ , James replies, setting his phone on the dresser before he heads into the bathroom, running through his morning routine that takes him the better part of an hour.

The doorbell’s already ringing by the time James finishes, running his fingers through his hair one last time to make sure it’s spiked the way he wants it. He grabs his phone and sees ten new messages and a few missed calls, phone vibrating in his hand before he can even read what the other texts say.

_open the door, James, we’ve been waiting for 15 minutes already_

James shakes his head and makes his way downstairs, the ringing of the doorbell proceeded by a handful of knocks. He waits until the knocking subsides before he opens the door, doesn’t want to risk getting a face full of fist so early.

“This house is awesome,” is the first thing James hears when the door’s fully open, Carlos’ eyes wide as he peeks inside.

James shrugs, long past used to people’s reaction when they see the house in all its over-extravagant glory. “Come in,” he says, stepping out of the way to let them through, fighting to hide the smirk at the way Carlos is rubbing his side, face screwed up in a grimace, Logan looking proud and smug.

“Everything looks the same,” Logan says, eyes wandering.

“Yeah, my mom’s never really home to change much, so,” James replies.

Logan nods, lips pressed into a thin white line, that same expression he always used to wear when James would tell him his mom was away on business again, that he was home alone with one of his mom’s friends checking in from time to time.

James leads them down to the entertainment room, one half filled with a small home theater, the other half with a foosball and pool table.

“This is sweet!” Carlos exclaims, bouncing in place like he doesn’t know what he wants to do first.

“Yeah,” James agrees. Though he’s not home to ever use it much, the entertainment room is one of his favorite places in the entire house.

They spend the better part of the morning and afternoon switching from foosball to pool, to movies and gaming, stopping only when the grumbling of their stomachs gets to be too hard to ignore.

They scavenge the kitchen for anything that takes the least amount of work, coming up with a bag of chips and a jar of salsa, and the refrigerator holds all the fixings for sandwiches. While James empties the chips into a bowl and the salsa into another, Logan spreads everything they’ll need for sandwiches over the countertop, quick and efficient as he makes them.

“Still eat them with the crusts cut off?” Logan asks, knife poised over the bread.

James feels his face heat up, nods his head and makes himself look busy until he can feel the flush receding.

“Sodas,” Carlos says, ice clinking against glass as he sets them on the counter.

The food quickly disappears, appetites happily satisfied, and after a quick clean-up—at Logan’s vehement insistence—they head back to the entertainment room, popping in a movie as they sprawl lazily across the sofas.

It’s no surprise that James can’t really focus on the movie, eyes darting back and forth from the screen to Logan and Carlos, food sitting like a ton of rocks in his stomach at the way Logan’s head’s resting on Carlos’ shoulder, the way Carlos’ arm is wrapped around Logan, cheek resting against the top of Logan’s head.

He hates the way it makes him feel, something vicious and ugly slugging through his veins, bitter voice in the back of his head that says that should be him, a thought so out of left-field it terrifies him, makes his stomach twist up and his pulse race, denial after denial shouting in his brain.

He barely suppresses a scream when his phone vibrates against his stomach, though he’s thankful for the way it jerks him from his thoughts.

_another party tonight_ , it says, _pls save me_

James really does feel bad for Dak and all the parties he has to endure at Jett’s insistence, but he doesn’t want to ditch Logan and Carlos again, feels like shit every time he has to duck out on them because Dak or Jett need him for something.

_busy tonight_ , James sends back, lips turned down.

_doing what??_

_got some people over_ , James replies.

_bring them along_

James sighs, thumb hovering over the ‘n’, stops and turns the screen off.

“Guys wanna go to a party tonight?” he asks, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the movie.

“I dunno,” Logan says, soft and hesitant. “M’not really the party type.”

“C’mon, Logan,” Carlos says, “it could be fun.”

James wants Logan to say no, wants to be able to text Dak and tell him he can’t, that the people he’s with don’t want to, but James can see the way Logan’s caving to the idea at the soft eyes Carlos is giving him.

“I guess,” Logan says, shoulders slumping as he sighs.

James shoots off a quick text to Dak, tells him they’ll be there at 8, smiling despite himself at the repeated thank you’s Dak replies with.

“I can’t go to a party looking like this,” Carlos says suddenly, tugging at the shirt he’s wearing.

“Why not?” Logan asks, brows furrowed, looking down at his own clothes.

“They’re not party clothes,” Carlos replies, the ‘duh’ obvious but unsaid.

“I don’t have party clothes,” Logan says, blowing out a breath.

“I can take you guys to get some stuff,” James says, shrugging when their eyes land on him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Logan says, frowning. “I’m cool with going in what I’m wearing.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” James says, shaking his head. “What’s the point of my mom having all this money if I don’t get to use it to help my friends?”

Logan softens at the words and Carlos’ eyes light up.

“You’re so fricken awesome,” Carlos says, barely managing to contain his glee.

“Just let me go change real quick and we can head over to the mall,” James says, pushing himself up off the sofa.

James jogs up to his room, switches out his sweatpants for a pair of worn and comfortable jeans, shoving his phone and wallet into his pockets. He tugs on a pair of socks and slips into a pair of beat up tennis shoes, grabbing his keys off the dresser before he heads back down to where Logan and Carlos are waiting by the door.

“All set?” he asks, twirling his keys around his finger.

“You really don’t have to do this, James,” Logan says, but he follows James out of the house, Carlos right behind them.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to, anyway,” James says, flashing a smile to ease the unintentional bite of his words.

“Fine, let’s go,” Logan says, practically ripping the car door from its frame when James unlocks it.

Well, James thinks, this oughta be fun.

\--

The party is already in full swing by the time they get there, street lined with cars and people spilling all over the house, bass from the music shaking the windows.

Jett’s nowhere to be seen, but it’s not like that’s anything unusual, Jett always milling about, talking to whatever girl he thinks he has a chance of hooking up with. It’s really quite nauseating, the way Jett throws himself at them, all desperate and verging on pathetic.

Dak’s standing off to the side, leaning against the wall between the kitchen and living room, plastic red cup in his hand.

“Hey, dude,” James says when he approaches, pulling Dak in for a quick hug.

“Hey,” Dak says, eyes locked on Logan and Carlos standing beside James.

“Oh,” James says, gesturing at the two people next to him. “This is Logan, and that’s his boyfriend, Carlos. Logan, Carlos, this is Dak.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a couple classes together,” Logan says, smile tight and uncomfortable.

Carlos sticks his hand out, open and inviting as he shakes Dak’s hand.

“You guys want a drink?” Dak asks, tucking his hand into his pocket.

James declines, knowing he’s going to have to drive later, but gives a small nod when Logan and Carlos look to him to see if it’s okay.

They follow Dak through to the kitchen, James’ back prickling with the feel of everyone’s eyes on them. It isn’t as though James isn’t used to the feel of people looking at him, he just doesn’t like the way it feels this time, like everyone’s judging Logan and Carlos, sizing them up, wondering what the fuck James is doing with them.

James fills a cup with soda while Dak fixes Logan and Carlos something to drink, eyes scanning the crowd of people. He’s pretty sure there are more people he _doesn’t_ know than people he’s actually familiar with.

“I’m just gonna—“ Dak points over his shoulder after he hands Logan and Carlos their drinks, gesturing back to the living room.

“Yeah, alright,” James says, and Dak disappears without another word.

“So, what exactly is there to do?” Logan asks, looking around in distaste.

“Um, nothing?” James says.

“That’s kind of lame,” Carlos says, disappointed.

“Yeah, it really is,” James agrees. Jett’s parties got old pretty fast, nothing more than an excuse to get drunk and hook up. His game systems are all in his bedroom, and there isn’t a pool table or anything like what James in the entertainment room at home.

“You sure you guys wanna stay?” James asks, knowing they’d have a much better time if they just went back to his house.

“You’re not gonna leave without saying hi to me first, are you, James?”

James closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe.

“Nah, just figured you were busy doing other things,” James says, shaking his head when he sees that Jett’s definitely more drunk than he is sober.

“You gonna introduce me to your little friends?” Jett asks, disgustingly arrogant and condescending.

“This is Logan, and that’s Carlos,” James says through gritted teeth, gesturing at the two of them. “Guys, this is Jett.”

“Logan,” Jett says, and his tone immediately sets off warning bells in James’ head. He tries to say something, tries to get Logan or Carlos’ attention so he can signal that it’s time for them to go, but Jett steamrolls right over him.

“I see you’ve got a new look going on,” Jett says, eyes blazing like fire as he looks Logan up and down.

Gone are Logan’s pressed khakis, his button-down and sweatervest, replaced with a pair of well-fitting jeans, boots, and a gray v-neck under a leather jacket that was shoved to the back of James’ closet, gone unused for James doesn’t even know how long, shoulders too wide to fit. Logan’s hair is different, too, spiked and gelled carefully, no longer combed flat to his head.

Logan’s entire body screams how uncomfortable he is, how confused, and Jett’s shit-eating grin puts James on edge.

“Too bad clothes don’t change who you are,” Jett says, vicious and scathing.

“Jett, knock it off,” James says, panic seizing his veins.

“And you know who you are, Logan?” Jett asks, smirking.

Logan’s eyes are wide in panic, disbelief, throat working over and over again as he swallows repeatedly.

“A loser, Logan,” Jett says, voice soft like he’s sharing a secret. “A geek. Your clothes won’t change that, James won’t change that. You’ll always be a loser and a geek.”

James wants to throw up, turns to Logan to tell him that Jett’s a fucking dick, that he’s a drunken idiot, that what he says doesn’t matter, but Logan’s eyes are closed, entire face flushed almost scarlet in embarrassment, and Carlos is there, hand around Logan’s bicep, tugging him, whispering something James can’t hear.

They’re gone before James can even get his voice to work, lost somewhere in the crowd of people, and his heart plummets to his feet.

“Fuck you, Jett,” James says, plastic cup crinkling in his hand. “What gives you the fucking right to talk to them like that? They’re my friends!”

“I’m your friend!” Jett shouts, hands clenched into fists.

“No, Jett,” James says, shaking his head. “You really aren’t.”

James grabs a bottle of liquor off the table, doesn’t even bother reading the label before he lifts it to his lips, grimacing at the burn as he swallows a mouthful. He storms out to the backyard, grateful that it’s quiet and empty, falling to his ass as he shakes his head, wondering why he even bothered coming tonight.

He relishes the burn of the alcohol—vodka, he thinks—the way it numbs him, makes him forget what happened, until he closes his eyes and sees the way Logan looked, seared into the back of his eyelids.

“What’re you doing out here?” Dak asks, plopping down on the ground beside James.

James shrugs, lifts the bottle to his lips, passing it to Dak. Dak grabs it and takes a drink, and they sit in silence while they pass it back and forth until the bottle’s empty, and James throws it somewhere in the distance when they’re finished.

“Jett’s a dick,” Dak says, breaking the silence. “Had no right saying what he did.”

“Yeah,” James says, beyond words at this point. Nothing he says is going to change what Jett did, said, and he’d really rather not think about it anymore now.

He turns to look at Dak and he has no idea what makes him do it, but he finds himself leaning in, a sloppy excuse of a kiss that ends up more on Dak’s cheek than his lips, and James doesn’t wait for Dak to push him away, realigns until their mouths are pressed together, a little too dry, a little too hard.

Dak makes a questioning sound, but to James’ surprise, he doesn’t push James away, instead pushes into it, lips parting and moving, and James feels a shiver run down his spine at the feel of their lips moving together, wet and rough and forceful.

James has no idea how long it goes on, could be seconds, minutes, hours, something like arousal burning through his veins, but too much alcohol in him to do anything about it.

“Sorry,” James says when he pulls back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Not a big deal, dude,” Dak says, licking his lips, and it’s like that was all his body needed to jump start the rise of his dick in his jeans, half-hard and pushing against the fly.

James knows he should be panicking, shouldn’t be as okay with this happening as he is, but he just wants, needs, doesn’t think twice about rising to his feet and pulling Dak along with him, tripping over himself as he drags Dak to the side of the house, pushing him up against it.

“Okay?” James asks, hips snug against Dak’s, arousal hot and slippery as it slithers through him, Dak hard and hot against him.

“Yeah,” Dak says, eyes glittering in the light from the moon.

James fits their lips together, kisses Dak hard and thorough as he rolls their hips together, a surprised moan at how good it feels lodged in the back of his throat. Dak meets each move with a shift of his own hips, hand slipping between them to palm James through his jeans, and James freezes for half a second before Dak squeezes, then thrusts into the touch, desperate for the friction to get off, to wash away the burn of anger that’s still bubbling inside him.

He barely registers the sound of his zipper being pulled down, barely registers what Dak’s doing until Dak’s gripping him, warm, smooth skin wrapped around him, grip just this side of too tight as he strokes up, down, up, down.

God, but it still feels good, so fucking good, and through the haze of drunken pleasure, he realizes a little reciprocation might be nice. He pulls his lips from Dak’s, breathing shallow and ragged, can barely see in the dark space between them, hands fumbling as he undoes the button of Dak’s jeans and pulls down the zipper. His heart’s racing as he shoves his hand into Dak’s boxers, and it’s so different from what he thought it’d be, but Jesus, it feels good, better than he ever thought it would, Dak hot and heavy and hard in his hand, searing into his skin like a brand.

It’s barely more than awkward fumbling, the angle all wrong for any real kind of movement, but it still feels like nothing he’s ever known before, Dak’s hand on him, his on Dak, and he comes like a shot, quick and hard, biting his bottom lip to keep from shouting. His entire body feels like jello, arms and legs shaky, and he has to remind himself Dak hasn’t come yet, tightens his grip and lets Dak thrust into the ring of his fist, groaning at the heat of Dak exploding over his fingers.

It hits him then, like a ton of bricks, what just happened, and he wrenches his hand from Dak’s boxers, wipes it on his shirt, eyes darting everywhere that isn’t Dak.

He zips and buttons his jeans, not quite sure what to do or say.

“Hey, not a big deal,” Dak says, all calm and nonchalant. “A hand’s a hand, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” James says, though it’s so much more than that.

“I’ll uh—I’ll see you later,” Dak says, quick pat to James’ shoulder before he leaves.

Jesus.

Of all the things James had ever imagined happening, that was most definitely not one of them. He can’t help but wonder how often Dak does that kind of thing, if it’s why he’s always at Jett’s parties despite the way he’s clearly been over Jett and his bullshit for quite some time now.

Despite how sober he feels now, James knows he’s nowhere near good enough to drive, and he really doesn’t want to spend the night at Jett’s, doesn’t even want to see Jett’s face ever again. He takes off on foot, grateful that Jett only lives a few blocks away, needing the time to clear his head and shake off the lingering effects of the alcohol still working its way through him.

By the time he gets home, he barely manages to drag himself to the bathroom to relieve his bladder before he stumbles into bed, asleep before his head even hits the pillow.

\--

_So, that happened_ , is James’ first thought when he wakes up the next morning, but before he can dwell on it, his stomach is churning, his head pounding, and he’s dizzy and disoriented as he tries to untangle himself from the mess of blankets he somehow managed to wrap himself in while he was asleep. It’s a close call, but he manages to make it to the bathroom in time for what feels like his entire stomach slipping out of his mouth and into the toilet.

He shakes and sputters, eyes watering with the force of his retching, stomach lurching over and over again until James is pretty certain he’s thrown up everything he’s eaten in his entire life.

He reaches up and flushes the toilet, legs shaky as he stands, and his entire body is soaked in sweat, clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. It’s slow-going, but James peels off all his clothes, stomach rolling at the smell of lingering alcohol, and gets the shower started, water as hot as he can stand it.

It doesn’t help the headache that’s threatening to explode his brain, but he feels a little better being clean, and he stumbles around the empty house in a towel, trying to remember where he last saw the aspirin.

He finds them in the kitchen, and downs three with a glass of cold water, refilling his glass and gulping that one down, too. He shuffles back up to his room, changing out the towel for a pair of boxers, and climbs back into bed, curled up on his side as he swears to himself never to drink that much again, eyes screwed tight until he finally manages to fall back asleep.

\--

James wakes later in the afternoon, feeling a thousand times better than he did when he first woke up. He rolls over onto his stomach, surprised gasp leaving his mouth, toes curling at the unexpected pressure against his erection.

He squeezes his eyes shut, flashes of Dak’s mouth and Dak’s hand appearing behind his closed eyelids, and it amps up his arousal, makes him rock against his mattress, breath rushing out of his lungs.

It doesn’t take long, a few snaps and twists of his hips as he remembers the touch of Dak stroking him, of Dak in his hand, so fucking hot and heavy in his palm, before he comes, soaking the inside of his boxers, breathing loud and hard until he calms down.

“Oh, god,” James says, groaning, rolling over onto his back, scrubbing his hands over his face.

So maybe now he’s panicking.

He still has no idea what pushed him to kiss Dak, has no idea what urged him to keep going when Dak started touching him, when he started touching Dak, but he can’t deny that it’s one of the best pleasures he’s ever known, so much better than the first—or second, or third—time he slid inside Lucy, so wet and warm around him, so much better than the first time Lucy wrapped her hand around him, the first time Lucy went down on him.

Yeah, he enjoyed being with Lucy, as much as any other teenage boy that’s having sex, but even the fumbling handjob with Dak was so fucking high above that he kind of doesn’t know what to do with himself.

James remains in bed and runs it through his mind, at first settling on the idea that maybe he’s attracted to Dak, _like that_. The thought doesn’t stick around long, because James starts laughing so hard he’s crying with it.

He means nothing bad toward Dak; Dak’s an awesome guy and all that, but beyond the fumbling hookup, James could never see himself in any kind of relationship with Dak.

He switches his train of thought to it being the fact that it was a guy that got him off so hard, and he tosses around the words ‘I’m gay’ in his head, but even that doesn’t sit right. He’s not gay, knows he’s not because even if being with Dak was miles ahead of how good it felt being with Lucy, he can’t deny that he’s attracted to the soft curves of hips and breasts, the smell of perfume and the sticky sweet taste of chapstick and lip gloss, the way it feels to sink into the slick warmth of girls—not that he’s had much experience aside from Lucy—so he knows without a shadow of a doubt that being 100% gay isn’t what he is.

“Bisexual,” he says out loud, the words settling calm and easy inside his head. Yeah, that’s what he is, feels it and knows it like he knows his name and that his eyes are never one solid color.

Now knowing what he is doesn’t change the way James all but obsesses over the encounter with Dak, the way it flashes behind his eyes every time he closes them, the way he can’t stop thinking about how Dak’s cock felt in his hand, hot and hard and smooth and so fucking good, and he finds himself hard more often than not over the course of the remainder of the weekend.

At school on Monday, James doesn’t see much of Dak or Logan. It doesn’t bother him much that he doesn’t see Dak around, wouldn’t know what to say to him or how to act without things being awkward, but not seeing Logan makes his stomach tighten. He’d tried getting ahold of Logan, but every text and call went unanswered, and he hates it, hates fucking Jett and his stupid fucking mouth for probably confirming everything Logan’s felt this entire time.

James is glad he doesn’t see Jett anywhere at school, would probably punch him square in the jaw if he did, and doesn’t intend to stick around after just in case Jett shows his face, but seeing Logan in the library makes James stop short, his feet moving of their own accord until he’s standing beside the table, drumming his fingers against it.

“Hey,” James says softly, offering Logan a small smile.

“Hi,” Logan says, just as quiet.

“I tried calling and texting, but you didn’t reply,” James says, frowning.

“I was kinda busy,” Logan replies, the way he’s studiously avoiding James’ eyes cluing James in to the fact that Logan’s lying, or at least not telling the entire truth.

James pulls out the chair across from Logan, folds his hands on the tabletop and says, “If this is about what Jett said, forget about it. Jett’s an idiot.”

Logan frowns and shakes his head. “He was right. I mean, that’s how everyone sees me, how everyone has always seen me. I don’t understand why you’d put yourself through the social suicide of being seen with me.”

“He was wrong, Logan,” James says vehemently, shaking his head. “Do you think who we are now is going to be the same person we are in five years? Ten years? What Jett and everybody else thinks shouldn’t matter to you.”

“But it’s okay that it matters to you, right?” Logan asks, sneering.

“I was wrong then, Logan. How many times am I going to have to tell you that? I was an idiot and I fucked up and I’d do it all over, the right way, if I could.”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan says softly, eyes closed. “It’s just—you don’t know what it’s like being in my shoes, James, knowing that everyone sees you as a geek or a loser or a nobody. You’re James Diamond and everybody loves you.”

James doesn’t know what to say to that; he knows Logan’s right, knows he doesn’t have an inkling of what it feels like to know that’s what people think about you, and it makes his heart feel so heavy he’s sure it’s about to sink to his feet.

“Yeah, well,” James says after a moment. “You’re still one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You, Logan, not them.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, lips lifting into the smallest of smiles.

“So,” James says, “wanna come over, watch a movie or something?”

“I was supposed to hang out with Carlos when I finished up here.” Logan’s lips turn back down into a frown, looking a little regretful about that face.

“Dude, just invite him over,” James says. “The more, the merrier.”

“Alright,” Logan says. “Does 5 o’clock work?”

“Sure, yeah,” James replies. “I’ll see if I can find something to make for dinner.”

Logan nods his head but doesn’t say anything else, and James takes that as his cue to leave, standing and squeezing Logan’s shoulder lightly before he does.

\--

James is just draining the pot of spaghetti noodles when Logan and Carlos show up.

“Hey, guys,” he says, a little distractedly, trying not to burn himself with the scalding water.

Logan and Carlos greet him and Carlos asks if he’d like any help. James tries saying no, but Carlos is adamant, says it’s the least he can do since James is feeding them, and James finally relents, tells Carlos where the plates and silverware are so he can set the table.

Dinner goes well enough, after James apologizes to Carlos for having to witness Jett being such a dick. Carlos shrugs it off, says his school is filled with assholes just like Jett, and that’s that.

Logan insists on the cleanup, and James lets him have at it since everything just needs to be loaded into the dishwasher, and they retreat to the entertainment room, taking the same seats they always do.

As is becoming the norm, James finds himself distracted, unable to pay attention to the movie playing on the screen in front of them. His eyes are glued to the way Logan and Carlos are curled around each other, the way Carlos keeps reaching out to run the tips of his fingers down the length of Logan’s arm, the way Logan smiles softly at the touch, and James wants that, wants that so bad, wants his own boyfriend to curl up with, to hold, to _touch_.

It’s like an itch under his skin now that he knows what it feels like to be with another guy, and he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop dreaming about it, and he needs so damn bad, needs something to soothe that buzz under his skin that seems to grow more with each passing day.

Logan and Carlos leave after the movie’s over, going on about how it’s a school night and that with Carlos’ dad being a cop, it’s not a good idea to be even a minute late for the curfew his parents have given him.

James locks the door behind them and flops down on the sofa in the living room, throwing his arm over his eyes as he blows out a deep breath. Jesus, he wishes he knew what to do. He briefly debates calling Dak, but he doesn’t want to be _that_ guy, the one who only calls when he needs to get laid. That’s not someone he wants to be, not when he’s not even out of high school, not ever, and he already feels awkward enough as it is with the last encounter with Dak.

It hits him out of nowhere, Jett’s smug voice floating through his head, going on and on about how he snuck into a club downtown, brandishing a fake ID. Obviously James doesn’t want to go to the same club Jett went to, and he runs up to his room to grab his laptop, pulling up Google and searching for the nearest gay clubs.

The club he finds ends up having 18 and over nights a couple times a week, and he lets out a sigh of relief at not having to go through the trouble of finding somewhere to get a fake ID.

It’s only Monday, though, and the nights he can get in are Thursdays and Saturdays, still days away.

The days seem to drag now, even more than they usually do, and it feels like a month has passed before Thursday finally rolls around.

He feels bad having to turn down Logan when Logan catches up to him after school and asks if he wants to hang out, but James wants to do this, needs to do this, the itch and buzz under his skin making it hard to think about anything else.

He doesn’t bother with his homework when he gets home, forgoes eating in favor of showering and meticulous grooming, face shaved smooth, pubic hair trimmed close. He spends over an hour going through his closet, trying on more than fifteen different outfits, finally settling on a pair of dark wash jeans that fit like a glove in all the right places, fabric worn thin in others; a white v-neck t-shirt that stretches tightly across his chest and back, almost uncomfortably tight around his biceps; a dark blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his favorite pair of boots.

He hurriedly spikes his hair, going for a messier look than his usual carefully spiked style, and when he finishes, he spritzes himself with a couple squirts of cologne.

James’ nerves are going a mile a minute as he gets into his car and drives to the club, throat and mouth dry. His heart’s hammering in his chest by the time he gets to the entrance, and his hand shakes when he hands his ID to the bouncer and pays the entrance fee.

The inside of the club is nothing he could’ve prepared for, different colored lights bouncing off the walls, music so loud it shakes him to his core, bodies writhing and grinding together to the beat blaring through the speakers.

James feels more than a little uncomfortable, so far out of his comfort zone his skin prickles with nervous sweat. He steels his nerves, won’t let himself second-guess what he’s doing, and pushes his way through the crowd to the bar, ordering a soda as he sits back and takes in the environment.

Despite how badly he wanted this before, James can’t help doubting himself now. He’s not doubting that he wants to be with a guy, he wants that so fucking much, but he doesn’t want it to be in a club, doesn’t want it to be with someone he doesn’t know, doesn’t want to start having meaningless hookups, wants it to be with someone he knows, someone he actually cares about it, and it doesn’t take much more for James to swallow down the rest of his soda and leave.

There’s the bitter taste of disappointment on the back of James’ tongue as he drives home, but he knows he made the right decision. He sighs as he enters the house, and makes his way up to his room, already putting this night behind him.

\--

Things return to normal, or as normal as they ever are, and James focuses on passing his classes and hanging out with Logan and Carlos. There’s still that stomach churning jealousy he feels at the way Logan and Carlos are so comfortably intimate with each other, even in front of him, but he finds that if he doesn’t focus on it, it barely registers.

Before he knows it, auditions for the spring play are being held, and suddenly it’s taking over all his time, preparing and rehearsing when he secures his role. It leaves very little time to spend with Logan and it’s unsettling how much that bothers him.

He’s running through ideas of what he, Logan, and Carlos can do Saturday after play rehearsal when Lucy comes up to him, mascara running down her cheeks as she cries.

James hasn’t seen much of Lucy since she dumped him. He’d catch glimpses of her and Kendall walking through the halls, Kendall’s arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist, but beyond that, it’s almost like Lucy didn’t exist to him anymore.

It still hits him like a punch to the gut to see her so upset, though. Despite how callously she dumped him, James finds that he does still care about her, probably always will in some way or another. She was his first real relationship, and if she hadn’t dumped him, he wouldn’t have mended his friendship with Logan, and he owes her for that. Jett, too, as much as he hates to admit that, even to himself.

“Lucy, what’s wrong?” James asks, pulling Lucy in against his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“Kendall, he—he broke up…broke up with me,” Lucy says between sobs, body shaking with the force of them.

“I’m sorry,” James says sincerely. “What happened?”

Lucy seems to compose herself some before she answers, sobs lessening and her speech more coherent. “Left to go be a roadie or something, said it was more important than staying here, that this could be the way to catch his big break.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” James says again, unsure of what else to say. He knew Kendall was a jerk from the get-go, but he doubts Lucy wants to hear _I told you so_ or anything remotely resembling that right now.

“No,” Lucy says, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped you in the first place. Can you—can you give me another chance?”

James’ eyes widen. “No, Lucy, I’m sorry,” he says. Had it been months ago, James would’ve entertained the idea of taking her back, of trying again, but these months apart have proved just how much they didn’t really belong together, that there wasn’t much of a future for them outside of high school. Sure, they might have similar career goals, but that’s about all they have in common, and that’s not enough to make a relationship work, James sees that now.

Lucy’s eyes harden, anger burning deep in them. “It’s because of Logan, isn’t it?” she asks, sneering. “I know about the bet. It’s cute what Jett’s making you do.”

Before James can open his mouth to reply, to tell Lucy that she has no idea what she’s talking about, there’s a shocked gasp from behind him, and he turns to see Logan standing there, eyes wide, wet and red.

“Did you really think you meant something to him?” Lucy asks, all fake shock and disbelief. “You did, didn’t you? That’s so cute.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lucy,” James says, turning to face Lucy, his voice loud and booming. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Lucy quirks an eyebrow, smirking before she flounces off, hair bouncing behind her. James spins on his heel, expecting to find Logan still standing there, but Logan’s already halfway down the hall, people watching his escape with something like amusement on their faces.

“Logan!” James shouts, taking off after him. “Logan, please,” he shouts, but Logan doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps running, running down the halls and through the exit to the parking lot.

\--

Logan ignores every call and text and seemingly disappears from the face of the earth. James doesn’t see him anywhere, doesn’t seem him in the halls at school or at the library after, doesn’t see Logan’s car in the driveway at his house, and it hurts like nothing he’s ever known before.

Everything he thought he felt for Lucy is gone, has no sympathy for Kendall dumping her now, a vicious hate burning up his insides.

As angry as he is at Lucy, and god is he ever angry, he knows he’s just as much to blame. If he’d never agreed to the stupid bet in the first place, none of this would have happened, and he wants to hate himself so badly, but he can’t, not when it brought him so close to Logan again, even if it’s all gone now.

For that brief moment of time, Logan was his best friend again, and he should regret it, but he doesn’t.

James tries going on like everything’s okay, like it doesn’t feel like his heart’s been ripped out, but he finds it almost impossible, sees no fun or happiness in anything. His grades start slipping again, can’t bring himself to focus on any of it, and after missing play rehearsal for almost a week, the director tracks him down and tells him he’s been replaced.

James shrugs his shoulders, says, “Okay,” voice void of any emotion.

“Are you alright, James?” the director asks, face lined with worry.

“Yeah, I’m good,” James lies, forcing a smile.

It’s clear the director can tell James is lying, but James smiles even wider, tries to make it look as real as he can, and she nods her head, says her door is always open if James ever needs to talk, and James thanks her quietly before walking away.

The last play of his high school career and he can’t even bring himself to care that he’s not participating in it anymore.

He shakes his head, fighting the lump in his throat as he makes his way out of the school, ready for the day to be over.

Of course, his luck just sucks these days, and Jett’s leaning against his car, lips quirked into the ever present smirk.

“Got my money, Diamond?” Jett asks, arms folded across his chest.

James doesn’t say anything, reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, counting through the bills and handing Jett the $200 he owes him.

Jett takes the wad of money with a smile, tucking it into his front pocket. “Guess he finally realized how much of a loser he really is,” he says, sneering. “He doesn’t belong in our world, James.”

James pulls back before he can even think about it, fist flying and landing with a resounding crack.

“No, Jett,” James says, “ _you_ don’t belong in _my_ world. You’re a hanger-on, and the only reason people even pretended to care about you was because of me.”

Jett’s holding his face, blood trickling down between his fingers, unable to say a word in retaliation.

James swallows roughly, finally noticing the small crowd that’s gathered near them. His heart’s pounding in his chest and he climbs into his car without a second-thought, starting the ignition and zooming out of the lot.

If Jett or anyone who saw what happened reports it, James is screwed. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knows he’ll be suspended, and there’s a huge possibility he’ll get a fine of some sort for it, too.

He couldn’t help it, though, so fucking tired of Jett and all his bullshit, and he reacted without thinking, just wanted to shut Jett up once and for all. Instead of the satisfaction he thought he’d feel, he feels nothing but empty.

He drags himself through every day, barely mustering the energy to get up every morning, zoning out in every class.

A week and a half later, Dak sits at the table where James is poking at his lunch, tray clattering against the tabletop.

“Dude, what’s going on with you?” Dak asks, straight to the point.

James shrugs, doesn’t feel like answering or talking about it.

“Seriously, man,” Dak says, blowing out a heavy sigh. “You’re acting like your girlfriend dumped you.”

James’ stomach plummets to his feet, breath caught in his throat. He needs to get away, needs to get out of here, realization crashing into him like 50 foot waves.

Dak was kidding, James knows that, but it’s too close to the truth, a truth he failed to realize until now.

All the time he’s been spending with Logan, how his days never seemed complete if he didn’t see him, all the things he’s been doing to make Logan smile, make him happy, the way it felt like he was on top of the world when Logan smiled at him, that stomach turning feeling he always had every time he had to watch Logan and Carlos together—jealousy, god, he was so fucking jealous—all adds up to the fact that he’s gone and fallen in love with him. Fuck.

“James, man, I was just joking,” Dak says, jerking James out of the tangled web his thoughts have become.

“I gotta go,” James says, leaving his tray on the table as he makes a quick getaway.

He’s such a fucking idiot. How did he not realize what was happening? Yeah, okay, even if he would have realized it before, he wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. He wouldn’t have ruined what Logan and Carlos had just because he wanted to be with Logan. Logan’s happy with Carlos, and despite how James feels about him, Logan’s happiness is much more important to him.

It doesn’t mean that he’s not angry as fuck at himself. Any chance he could have had with Logan is gone now, all because of the stupid bet, because he agreed to it in the first place, because Lucy had to open her mouth knowing Logan was right there listening.

James goes out of his mind trying to get Logan to talk to him now. With the knowledge of how he feels about Logan, it hurts even more every time Logan blows him off or ignores him.

He’s at a loss as to what to do now. Logan very obviously doesn’t want to talk to him, doesn’t want to hear James’ explanation, and James just doesn’t know what to do.

\--

It’s been two weeks, two long agonizing weeks since the last time James talked to Logan, and he’s no closer to fixing this than he was right after it happened.

He’s taken by surprise when he gets home from school and sees Carlos sitting on the front step, instantly dreading what Carlos will say to him. He approaches warily, keys clutched tightly in his hand. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Carlos says. “You look rough.”

“Yeah, well,” James says, shrugging.

“I was wondering if we could talk,” Carlos says, following James inside once James gets the door unlocked.

“Yeah, sure,” James says, and leads Carlos into the kitchen.

Carlos takes a seat at the breakfast bar, arms folded across the top. “Logan looks just about as bad as you do,” he says, and James’ heart cracks in two.

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” James says. “He’s not answering my calls or texts, and I haven’t seen him at school, either. His car’s never in the driveway when I go past his house.”

“Yeah, he’s been spending a lot of time at my place,” Carlos comments. “He hasn’t really said anything about what happened, though, just that he didn’t want to see or talk to you again.”

James feels tears prickling at his eyes, throat gone tight. He figured as much, but hearing Carlos confirm it hurts worse.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Carlos asks, voice quiet and low, comforting in a way James didn’t expect.

James nods, swallows repeatedly to rid the lump in his throat before he starts. He goes all the way back to the beginning, back to middle school when Logan came out to him, how he reacted, how he ditched Logan when Logan needed him the most because he didn’t know what to do with Logan’s admission, up to Lucy dumping him, Jett’s suggestion of the bet to take James’ mind off being dumped, how as soon he started trying to get close to Logan again that the bet stopped mattering, that he didn’t care if he lost the money because being Logan’s friend mattered more, how happy and complete he felt being able to call Logan his best friend again, ending with how he gave Jett the money and punched him for everything he said about Logan, and how he’s so fucking sorry he messed everything up, that he lost Logan’s friendship again.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Carlos asks, voice barely above a whisper.

James swallows and nods, says, “I wouldn’t have tried anything, I swear. You two are good together and I would never do anything to ruin that. You have to believe me.”

Carlos shakes his head, eyes glued to the countertop. “Logan broke up with me months ago, James,” he admits. “We’ve been just friends almost the entire time we’ve been hanging out with you.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” James says, brows furrowed in confusion.

“We’ve been really close for a while, and I guess we’re just really comfortable together. I knew once we started hanging out with you so much that I didn’t really stand a chance.”

James doesn’t know what to say to that, but he feels something like the ever present bite of anger zipping through his veins. “How—why,” he pauses, shakes his head, takes a deep, calming breath. “Why would you guys lie to me about that? Why not just tell me you weren’t together instead of making me feel like the unwanted third wheel all the time?”

“That was Logan’s decision. He never said why he didn’t want to tell you, just that he thought it was something we should keep to ourselves,” Carlos explains, shrugging. “Guess I know why now.”

“What?” James furrows his brows in confusion, but Carlos doesn’t give much of an explanation as to what he meant.

“You guys would be good together,” Carlos says instead. “I think you’d be able to make him happier than I ever could.”

“How can you say that?” James asks, shocked and confused. “After how I treated him all those years ago, the way I agreed to that stupid bet, you should want me as far away from Logan as I can get.”

“You’d think that,” Carlos says, “but Logan’s better when he’s around you. He’s happier and he laughs and smiles more. You made a mistake, and Logan just needs to hear you out so you can put all this behind you and move forward.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” James says, shaking his head, wishing with all his might that it could be.

“It might be, if you can just get him to listen to you for a minute,” Carlos says.

“And there’s the problem. You even said it yourself. He doesn’t want to see or talk to me.”

“I can help,” Carlos says, smiling, and for the first time in a while, James feels his own lips lifting up in a real smile.

\--

Carlos’ initial plan didn’t sit well with James. He’d suggested setting up a dinner date with Logan, and instead of Carlos showing, James would. James had quickly shot that idea down, didn’t want to lie to Logan like that, so Carlos came up with another plan, suggested that James wait at the small park near Logan’s house, and Carlos would take Logan out and they’d just accidentally run into James.

It isn’t exactly a foolproof plan; Logan can take off in the opposite direction the moment he spots James, but James hopes that that won’t happen, that Logan will give him a chance to explain.

His heart’s racing the entire drive to the park and he leaves his car a couple blocks away, making the rest of the trip on foot. He picks the bench that’s in the middle of the park, leg bouncing a mile a minute when he sits down.

Carlos didn’t specify a time, just said he’d try to get Logan there sometime in the afternoon, and James’ nerves and stomach are twisting and turning with each minute that passes and there’s no sight of Logan or Carlos anywhere.

James checks his watch every few minutes, his hope dwindling when a half hour passes, then an hour, then an hour and a half.

He’s ready to give up and go home when he hears faint voices getting closer, and his heart resumes its rapid beating the louder the voices get.

He knows the moment Logan spots him by the way the voices trail off, and he looks over at Logan, Logan’s eyes wide, looking back and forth between James and Carlos.

“Just hear him out, okay?” Carlos says, voice barely carrying to where James is sitting.

Logan shakes his head, backing away, and James jumps up, quickly making his way over.

“Logan, please,” James says, voice breaking slightly.

Logan pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slow, shoulders rising and falling with the movement. “Okay,” he says, hardly more than a whisper.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Carlos says, waving as he walks away.

James reminds himself to get Carlos something huge and extraordinary, no matter how this turns out.

“Do you wanna sit?” he asks, gesturing to the bench.

Logan wordlessly makes his way over, sitting as far away from James as he can get.

“I’m sorry,” James starts, pausing, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before he continues. “I know that apologizing isn’t going to magically make things better, but I’m sorrier than words could ever say.”

Logan stares straight ahead, and for all James knows, none of his words are actually reaching Logan. He continues nonetheless, says almost exactly what he said to Carlos, explains how wrong he was and how he’d take it all back and do it over if he could, that Logan matters more than that bet or money ever did, and, “I’m sorry, Logan, so fucking sorry. You’re the best thing in my life and I screwed that up, twice, but please believe me when I say I care about you.”

Logan’s voice is quiet and tight when he finally speaks, like he’s pushing it all out around a lump in his throat. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 12,” he says, shaking his head like he can’t believe it, as though he hates himself for it, “and you’ve hurt me so many times.”

“I know that, I know, and if I could, I’d take it all back and do it over, but I swear, Logan, one more chance and I will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.” James’ voice breaks and he turns away, hating himself for the way his emotions are getting the best of him.

Logan turns to James, chewing nervously on his bottom lip, eyes suspiciously wet. “Okay,” he says quietly, lips lifting into a wobbly smile.

“Okay?” James repeats, not quite believing what he’s hearing.

“Yeah,” Logan says, smile widening, dimples etched deep into his cheeks.

It hits James like a punch to the gut, the things he’d do or say to keep that smile on Logan’s face, and he vows to himself then and there that he will do whatever it takes to keep it there, to make sure that not a day goes by where Logan doesn’t smile like that, and, because he can’t quite help himself, too much happiness zipping through his veins, he leans in and presses his lips to Logan’s, feeling that smile against his own.

He pulls back, rests his forehead against Logan’s, breathing soft and slow in the space between them. “I love you, too, y’know,” he says, quiet and packed with emotion.

Logan nods and leans back in, lips soft and plush against James’ and James gets lost in the sensation, lets it fill him up until he’s smiling too much to keep the kiss going.

He knows there are still things they need to work through, the school year coming to an end, college just around the corner, but James has faith that they can make it work, that no matter what happens, they’ll find a way to be together, and he leans in again, can’t stop now that he’s started, whispers, “Love you,” against Logan’s lips, feels more than hears Logan’s, “Love you, too,” and decides that yeah, they’ll definitely find a way to make it work.

**Author's Note:**

> Art by [teh_emowaffle](http://teh-emowaffle.livejournal.com/)


End file.
